


The Government and The Soldier

by Old_Friends_Bookends



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:15:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Old_Friends_Bookends/pseuds/Old_Friends_Bookends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody has a weakness. </p><p>It turns out Mycroft Holmes, is desperate for a certain soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lion for a minute, or mouse for life?

Mycroft bit his lip as he climbed the stairs of 221B. His heart throbbed. The door slowly creaked open; John was perched in his chair and grinned when he saw the taller man.

Oh God. Turn back now, was all Mycroft could think. He had secretly harbored a crush on the doctor since he stood up to him on the first night they met. Mycroft felt a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach; what happened if he opened up and John turned him down? oh God. Oh God. 

"Mycroft, is something wrong?" John's smile was fading fast.

The government official walked over and sat silently on the sofa.

"John, I know we haven't really had a chance to meet properly. so I was wondering, and you are freely permitted to say no but... Are you free tonight for dinner?" He felt the words tumbling out before he had control of his lips; his face flushing as realisation dawned. He chanced a look at the doctor, a frown slowly darkening his features.

John looked deep in thought. This was ridiculous. John had always been adamant he wasn't gay, that he wasn't Sherlock's date. Why would this be different?

As Mycroft stood to leave, feeling as if the ground would swallow him whole, John looked up and mumbled, "I'd love to."


	2. The tie precedent.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is nervous about his date. Can Sherlock help?
> 
>  
> 
> Probably not.

Sherlock glanced at John, it was the third time in as many minutes that he had straightened his tie. It was becoming tedious. He coughed and John suddenly startled. 

"Date tonight John?" Sherlock asked, of course he didn't need to ask, but he was bored. And besides, watching John squirm was fun.

"Huh? Oh yeah. A date. Oh God. A real date. Maybe I shouldn't go?" Sherlock realised John's musings were for his own benefit, not Sherlock's. He rose from his chair and straightened John's tie for him, usually he would be upset but John seemed genuinely nervous. It was endearing actually, whenever John wanted sex he would go out on a date without any real worry. Why was this so different?

"There, John. She's a lucky girl. You look better than your average mess." He sighed when he saw the look of terror in John's face. "You know what I mean, John." Why did ordinary people have so many feelings? It was dull and tiresome. 

John's facial expression looked like a mixture of a deer caught in headlights and the grit and determination of the soldier that he is. It was only Mycroft after all, Mycroft Bleeding Holmes.

John steadied himself and walked to the door, looking every inch a confident man.

Sherlock grinned and said, "John? uh. Good luck!"


	3. Doctors and Daydreamers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's date night for the doctor and the government.

The car was parked right down the street away from Sherlock's prying eyes. It wasn't that they didn't want him to know. It's just that they wanted to know exactly where "this" was going before Sherlock found out. If it went anywhere at all; if the swirl of emotions in the pit of both John and Mycroft's stomachs was anything to go by, they both wanted this to work. 

The whole ride to the restaurant was enjoyable; John realised he had a lot in common with the older man. they both had a keen interest in biology and politics. Strangely, Mycroft enjoyed the works of Doctor Who and reading poetry.

The conversation continued as they walked into the intimate restaurant and took a table in the corner. The wine was expensive and easily consumed by the two men as they talked about their favorite Doctors. Mycroft played it safe and ordered a salad. He didn't want to seem fat in front of John. Shaking his head, John ordered a stake and cut it in pieces, taking turns to feed himself and the politician. Mycroft blushed, dutifully eating whatever was in front of him.

Before they knew it, their date had lasted four hours and the restaurant was about to close. Standing outside his flat, John nervously kissed Mycroft. 

Mycroft kissed back.


	4. Tea and Texting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John settles in for a night of tea and texting.

John quickly showered and changed into a baggy pair of boxer shorts. He was making himself a cup of tea in his old, chipped Army mug when his phone chimed with a message.

I had a lovely time tonight, Mr Watson. We should do it again sometime. MH

Chuckling John texted back: "Mr Watson hmm? You weren't calling me that earlier when you kissed me. JW"

You kissed me, if memory serves. John, better? Why are you texting about kissing, what if my brother sees? he does like to snoop. MH

Why can you say John but Sherlock calls me Jawn.. Jaaawn. However he says it. JW

And you never stopped me. JW

Oh yeah. I have to be careful. I don't mind him knowing, just so long as we tell him. Yeah? JW

My brothers voice does drawl quite annoyingly. Maybe I should call you that too. What was it? Jawn? Rolls off the tongue, no? MH

Don't you start too. Maybe we should change kissing to a different word? hmm... jam. Yes. My favorite. JW

Because that sounds better: I liked it when you jammed me tonight. we should do it again. MH

John chuckled and plodded back to his room; his tea abandoned on the kitchen side in favor of something better. 

Goodnight, Mycroft. JW

Night dear. MH


	5. Winter Wonderland.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two parts to this one. 
> 
> SHERLOCK FINDS OUT....
> 
> {Dramatic music}{pause for effect}

It had been two months since the date and the relationship had been moving along swimmingly. Neither had told Sherlock yet. Not out of fear that what they had might fail but out of the fear that Sherlock could possibly ruin it. 

They stood on the doorstep of Baker Street as they always did after a date. Today they went to see a soppy film; not something either would usually do, but the lead actor was devilishly handsome. Mycroft held onto John's hands as they kissed; the winter air made their lips tingle and the tips of their noses cold. In the two, almost three months they had been together, it had never gone further than kissing. God, John had tried. He desperately wanted Mycroft. To feel, to lick, to fuck. Hell, he'd even do it in the street. Mycroft just told him he wasn't ready then would slink back into his car after refusing to come up for tea, for the millionth time. 

Neither noticed the face in the window above them, or when John's phone chimed with a message. 

JOHN WHY IS MYCROFT EATING YOUR FACE? SH

I'LL CALL A PRIEST. SH

OH GOD. HE IS DEVOURING YOU. GET. AWAY. SH

WHY AREN'T YOU GETTING AWAY? SH

ANSWER YOUR PHONE DAMNED IT! SH

Then John pulled away and whispered....


	6. Love the way you lie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So um, the thing is, this chapter was supposed to go completely differently. But as always, people get the wrong end of the stick.

"I love you" 

John had an internal panic as soon as the words left his lips. They sprang from his lips like a wild animal on heat. It was embarrassing, stupid and utterly too soon. Oh God. It's been three seconds. Why hasn't he replied? Oh God. Oh God. 

Mycroft grinned like the cat that got the prey. He'd never quite believed in love; well, he loved his ex-husband Charles, but he wanted to forget all about that thank you very much. 

"I love you too" The words sounded foreign and naked on his tongue, like he was baring all to the other man.

Silence.

"J-John? Are you okay?" 

John's face had suddenly drained of colour. This time it was Mycroft's turn to panic. Had this all been a joke? One of Sherlock's experiments to see how far he could push Mycroft? Did John care about him at all?

Mycroft spun on his heels and jumped into his awaiting car, not wanting to spend another minute around the man that had twisted his emotions. Iceman, Mycroft scoffed. 

After the initial shock of Mycroft's reply John started to grin. That was quickly replaced with a scowl when he realised Mycroft had left. His boyfriend, his love. The penny finally dropped as he reached the now empty flat. He froze. 

I'm sorry. JW


	7. For The Love of Brothers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock confronts his brother on "eating John's face"

Scowling into his drink of fifty year old whiskey topped up with a shot of scotch, Mycroft sighed. The fire was burning brightly besides him as if its life depended on it. It's funny, Mycroft couldn't feel the heat or warmth, but he felt like he was melting. How poetic was that? He scoffed. They had only been dating a few months but Mycroft had opened his heart. Fell in love. Not only that but he had been crushing on John since the night they met. God, now he was spouting about love at first sight.

"Why?" 

The word, though quiet enough awoke him from his daydreams.

"Why, Mycroft? I saw him first. He is my friend. Not yours. Mine." 

Mycroft opened his eyes to see his brother, sans coat, sat on the chair opposite. He kept his mouth closed. 

"For crying out loud, Fatcroft!" Mycroft winced. "I can't have anything. John doesn't even like you. Nobody likes you. John is my friend so leave him alone. Okay? If I see you two together again, I'll tell mummy. You don't want her knowing do you? Does she even know you like men, Mycroft? You didn't even tell her about running off with Charles."

In his head, Mycroft was inventing a thousand new ways to murder his brother.

I love him, Sherlock."


	8. We Remember Them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is having nightmares.
> 
> #RemembranceSunday.

John was laying in bed that night, thinking about his relationship was keeping him up at night. But tonight it was different. Tonight he would dream of those he had lost. the men he had stood toe to toe with. The men he had fought with and for in the desert sun. The men he had tried to save, and cried over.

John Watson was haunted by the ones he had left behind. The ones he couldn't save. Every day was bad. He was able to walk down the street. He was able to have a lie in, without having to worry about being shot. He was able to tell the person he loved most just how he felt. 

John screwed his eyes shut as memories flooded his mind. His Lance Corporal dancing around the sand, the Christmas he spent playing cards with a young private, that same private bleeding in his arms.... No. John couldn't think like that; yet, he had no choice. These men are his brothers, these men are his life. 

His shoulder began to sting with the phantom pain of being wounded. He quickly pressed his hand to it, remembering the feel of sand and dirt marring his bloody wound. How many more will be hurt before it all ends?

John's eyes squeezed shut. 

We remember them.


	9. Road to Anywhere.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is feeling trapped so he goes to the one man that can help.

John walked aimlessly through the snow covered streets of London. It was November. Why was there snow? That's all he could think. He had no idea where he was going, he just needed to get out of that flat. It felt so trapping and small. Even out here, the white streets made him feel dirty and caught. Sherlock wasn't there in the flat, he must have had another one of his ridiculous ideas and run off to chase some master criminal. 

John continued dawdling along the isolated streets.

 

Before he knew it, he was on the doorstep of the man he trusted most; standing, just standing and staring. John shivered, he wasn't sure if it was just the mass of the building or that he finally felt the chill as he stood in just boxers and a short sleeved t-shirt. He quickly knocked, hoping against all hope that Mycroft would answer quickly. He knocked again, whispering Mycroft's name. slowly but surely the door creaked open, casting Mycroft all in shadow as he motioned the smaller man inside. Mycroft may be annoyed, but he was still a gentleman, leaving John in the cold wasn't a good thing to do to the man you were in love with. 

"Get out of those cold clothes. There's clean ones in my room. Come..?" He whispered.


	10. The Time of Our Lives.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two parter. 
> 
> Johncroft smut.

John licked his lips as he stripped off his t-shirt, folding it neatly and sat down on Mycroft's king sized bed. He breathed in the scent of his lovers bed and looked at his lap. God, this was so wrong. Mycroft now hated him because he froze; even worse, John was getting hard over the dazzling smell of Mycroft Bloody Holmes. It was like old spice and flowers and just a hint of something else. Something utterly new. Something only described as Myc. 

"Having fun there, John?" Mycroft leant against the door of his room. His eyes were raking over John's body like a wild animal in heat. "I'm sorry. I can leave.." John mumbled half heartedly. Before he knew it, Mycroft's lips were pressed against his; his tongue lapping at John's chapped lips. He gasped when Mycroft pushed him backwards, settling himself on John's over sensitive lap. "M-Mycroft!" John squeaked. The friction felt delightful, but there was too much clothing. He need Mycroft, needed to feel him. Skin on skin. Mycroft read John's mind and quickly started to strip off. Not minding when his clothes landed crumpled on the floor. He frantically lapped at John's lips, pressing down and grinding as much as John's boxers would allow. 

"Fuck me, Mycroft!" John practically begged. His hips bucking wildely.


	11. Love Me Tender.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two: Johncroft smut.

John felt his clothing being stripped from his body then the warm presence of Mycroft straddling his hips. Instantly, they both started rutting madly against each other; the friction they built caused them to moan in unison. Mycroft looked beautiful, almost majestic above him, he possessed the smile to break a thousand hearts John thought as another moan shuddered through his entire body.

"God, Myc. I ahh... Fuck!" was all John could muster as Mycroft leaned close and licked at the faded scar on John's shoulder. He traced the wound as if transfixed, as if he could take away the scar and the very memory of what happened. Mycroft licked delicately at the sensitive skin as he lined up his and John's cocks. He growled at the already sticky shafts and started rubbing them together. 

"Can you feel ahh.. That Jawn?" Mycroft moaned in a deep, husky tone that reminded John of the consulting detective. Deftly, Mycroft wrapped his hand around both erections and pumped fast, his need for release more important that delicate modesty. He fisted them both at a fast rhythm, John eyes kept closing as he groaned, the heat became too much and he spilled over into Mycroft's hand. A horse cry of 'MYCROFT!' flooded the room and Mycroft followed suit; howling out John's name as he came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I've been too busy. Oh well. This chapter is a bit weird, I don't think I am good at smut writing. 
> 
> Enjoy~xo


	12. The beginning of the end.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the beginning of the end.  
> Mycroft basks kn the glow of being in love.   
> Something wicked this way comes.  
> Part one of two.

Mycroft nuzzled his face into the crook of John's neck, feeling the warmth of his skin. John let out a hoarse giggle at the whisps of stubble that tickled his neck. 

BEEP.

The warm sun started to glow through the deep purple satin curtains and Mycroft grunted and squirmed. He was having a fantastic dream about fucking a fantastic man and come hell or high water he was going to finish it. 

BEEP. 

Mycroft felt the bed shift as John got up and padded wearily to the bathroom, if you squinted you could almost see the tell tale limp of a man who was thoroughly shagged last night. A warm smile spread over Mycroft's features, he was happy. Peaceful and happy. 

BEEP. 

He felt his eyelids droop and flutter closed, John's singing became muffled as water from the shower coated him in a delicious blanket of warmth. Mycroft's brain started to feel fuzzy as if he was drifting back off into the land of dreams 'finally more dreams about soldier boy....'

BEEP.........

His mouth became clangy and tingly. It was hard to breathe. Why was he suddenly sinking? He had an uunbearable pain in his chest, the sort that you do anything to stop. Where was John? Why couldn't he hear the singing, smell the fresh day or see the sunlight?

He was falling, faster and faster.


	13. A dying friend.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come.
> 
> Old men must pass on the secrets of a life time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the end. Mycroft is an old man, he and John have been married for a life time.   
> As always comment, kudo's, other things...  
> Apologies for the late updates.
> 
> xo.

White. Clinical. Pain. John sat on the stiff hospital chair and gripped onto the cain beside him. Sherlock was pacing along the floors, he thought John couldn't see it but John noticed everytime Gregory's fingers brushed against Sherlock's, the looks they shared, the way Sherlock was soothed by Greg's deep voice. They were definitely a couple in love. 

Mycroft's voice was muffled; the tube that was previously helping him breathe was now causing a hindrance. He wanted to talk, ask what had happened. John noticed Mycroft's whimpering and gently eased the tube from his throat and smiled weakly, his medical training came in handy after all.

"John, I..." Mycroft croaked. That's when he caught sight of himself in the windows reflection. All wires, scars and wrinkles. He was old, so old. The rings on his and John's hands, the matched. Thats when he realised.

"Hello, old man." John whispered just loud enough for him to hear. "It's okay. I love you to the moon and back. You're ready and... and so am I." A single tear ran down his cheek, Mycroft swallowed thickly.

"I don't want to go.." Mycroft whispered back, gripping tightly onto John's hand. John smiled sadly, "We've done it all. You are my heart, my soul and my life. I love you." Mycroft nodded, eyes closing.

"I love you, John Watson."


End file.
